


Started with a car

by D_Marx



Category: Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: Character Development, Developing Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 13:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14333298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_Marx/pseuds/D_Marx
Summary: It started with a car.





	Started with a car

“Mercy, do you need a tow?” Adam stepped casually up to Mercedes Athena Thompson's trailer. He had passed the remaining wreckage of a parts car on his way onto her property, wondering why it was there if she was an auto mechanic. He was not in a good mood as it was, Christi having picked up the remainder of her belongings and leaving in a flourish. The custody battle was next, and his daughter Jesse was uneasy to say the least. There were several factors involved in his family dynamic, one being he was a werewolf, two he was a father, and three, he had to maintain that those first two things didn't harm his daughter.

Thankfully Christi wasn't putting up much of a fight; she just wanted out. Jesse cried for days. Mercy stayed away for the most part, once in a while delivering these really delicious brownies he was sure she'd laced with something illegal. She did have her own set of rules, but harming someone wasn't in her nature. That he could respect.

But seriously.

Was it just a parts project or a motivator? A pet abomination? And why spoil his beautiful view? He approached Mercy with care, with a cordial smile, and a thumb pointing behind him to the piece of junk in her field. Walking over here gave him plenty of time to contemplate new names for whatever that thing was in between their two homes. He knew she didn't hate him, but if she was just reacting to something they talked about, be it Bran's meddling or Adam's insistence that the Marrok's got no influence over his own actions.

'The only way anyone would stay away from me in the pack is if I outranked them, and that's not going to happen.' And the Alpha in him accepted the mind challenge. It took him a few hours, convening with Bran, who proposed making her his mate, and doing it without her knowledge, but Mercy was protected.

When he approached the woman herself, in the now, he knew she'd just gotten done with work. She smelled of sweat, metal, grease, and Mercy. Her body language said it all. Arms crossed, hair tossed over shoulder in waves that showed she'd just taken them out of her braids, hip cocked eyes filled with what Bran warned was her tell for mischief. 'You'll know it when you see it.'

Adam's wolf growled in approval, and she did what Bran said she would do in that moment, for just a moment. She held his gaze a moment longer. She said, “Don't need a tow, thanks for the offer.”

Oh she was good. Deliberately meeting his eyes for as long as she dared, then making a claim even he could never have made. He decided to expand his research on the coyote.

“I don't suppose it'll be up and running in the near future?” Mercy finally broke eye contact, her smile growing and Adam wondered what it must've been like growing up a lone coyote among a pack of werewolves. Adam didn't know why he was thinking about something other than the abomination in her field but every time he came to meet her his heart skipped a beat and his wolf stirred. He made a choice almost based entirely on his wolf's response, and this was the result. She was his mate, she outranked everyone but him, and she knew exactly what he was getting into.

How curious.

How also curious that she saw the sudden change in him, the Alpha of the Columbia Basin Pack.

Raised by Werewolves, indeed. She knew about power, hierarchy, the change, the hunt, but not the call of the moon. Somehow she remained the outsider but a power within herself because of her upbringing by the Marrok's clan. Raised by the foster family and then the Marrok himself, Mercy had had her rebellions and bereavements and daily battles as a mischievous upstart. Put frankly, no one knew how to deal with a coyote, not even the Marrok. He took her on as a problem child, much like his other wayward packmembers.

Adam thrived on challenges, and he was first and foremost a gentleman. There were no advances on her that weren't playfully reciprocated at the least. Oh, how he wished she would stop surprising him. Not that she wasn't completely surprised by his actions, but it was curious to say the least. The pack was in chaos. But now wasn't the time.

“Car stays where I put it.” She pursed her lips comically, knowing that her owning this land he could legally only complain to her and maybe the Marrok, but Bran warned of her sense of humor when people had wronged her. Adam knew war and order, the importance of a timely manner and patience. It was clear that Mercy knew these things, and found a weak point that would not cause him anything more than irritation on his part. The car was the only thing physically disturbed at this point, and Adam was sure this car was just the tip of the iceberg.

“Am I correct that this rundown, piece of junk will continue to deteriorate and otherwise ruin my view of the eastern sky?”

“That depends on you, I suppose.” It was subtle but his nose caught just a scent of it.

Arousal.

Adam dismissed the notion out of kindness. Bran had mentioned some of her past and Adam was a gentleman first. There were fierce werewolves in his pack who were women in a man's world. If a man were to show interest in a woman, it was important that she gave solid and mutual consent. “I see.” He shifted to his other foot, something he used to do when he was courting Christi, “I can further deduce that, in order for that to happen, we will be talking again on more pleasant terms?” Her smile was, dare he say it, a little flirtatious, and his mouth dried a little. He was thinking it would take more than a tour of the house for her to appreciate the view he has, but he was a patient man.

“Depends on the talking, Hauptman.”

“Adam, please.” She hesitated, licking her lips and looking him in the eyes again.

“Adam.” The way she said it, with the tension he could smell, almost solicited a very nonhuman growl. Mine, the wolf urged.

Women are not property, Adam countered. It would be rude to point out that attraction at this time. Gentleman! And almost a generation older than her. He was, even with his future flirtations, a very patient man. Adam smiled and turned away, heading down the path. “Pack meeting, Tuesday night at seven, if you'd like.”

“Coyotes aren't pack.”

“This pack is part of a new era.” He looked back at her, offering the most daring smile he could muster. “We'll make it work. Tuesday, seven.” And he walked back the path he'd taken to come down and meet her.

It took everything in his power not to scratch the back of his neck or show any sign of weakness while she watched him head back up the path to his home. If she didn't take the invitation that was up to her, but she was protected no matter who made the first move.

Mine, the wolf said again.


End file.
